


Roxas's Perspective

by MelodiouslyNocturne



Series: Rules Of Three [4]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodiouslyNocturne/pseuds/MelodiouslyNocturne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rules of Three - Continuance of Roxas's side</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blood

I was up before the alarm went off. Court at 9:30 meant my morning was a total write-off. In terms of what’s going on, I’m more useful in court anyways. I stood up, stretched, and checked the closet. There was no sound from inside, not a totally uncommon thing for him to do. I pulled the door open and he was passed out asleep, his arms red from struggling against the cuffs. I sighed; no use waking him before I had coffee in hand for him. The cafeteria wasn’t yet open, but the coffee stand by the common area would be open. Sure the coffee was sludgy and disgusting, but it certainly would sober him up. A cup in each hand, I walked back to my, well, our room.

Inside the closet, the monster awoke. “What the fuck am I doing in here?”

Not a moment too soon. “Axel? How are you feel?”

“Fucking Roxas! Let me out!” He yelled, kicking the walls.

“Promise me you won’t kill me.”

“Roxas-!”

“Promise.” I said firmly, not moving.

He huffed heavily. “Fine.”

I set the coffee cups down. Slowly I opened the door, hostility pouring out. Carefully, constantly keeping an eye on him, I cut the duct tape from his arm, gently pulling it off. Pulled the gloves off his hands, and undid the hand cuffs. His eyes burned bright, the want to rip my head off clearly evident. I stared him down, challenging the beast. His shoulders dropped, his fists unclenched. He stood, cracking his back and neck, not taking his eyes off me. He took the coffee cup on the dresser and took a sip, a pained expression crossing his face.

“You okay?” I asked. I knew better than to talk to him before he’d had at least a sip of coffee.

He grunted. “Bathroom.” He left the room, an obvious limp in his left leg, a patch of dark red enveloping his thigh.

I knew better than to question him about it. Instead, I drank the thicker than sludge coffee, got myself ready to go, and got the ‘evidence bag’ full of what I’d emptied out of his pockets the night prior. I sat in the common area, waiting for him to come back, praying he hadn’t skipped out on me again.

A blood-curdling scream came from the washroom. My eyes widened and I ran. Was it him? What did he do? A small group of students had gathered in the door frame and with my shortness, it wasn’t easy to force my way through the tight crowd. And all I saw was blood pooling from the handicapped stall. 


	2. Hot

“Fucking hell.” I muttered, stumbling forward. Carefully stepping around the puddle, I pounded on the door. “Axel! Let me in!”

“The fuck do you want?” He muttered just loud enough for me to hear.

“You know there’s a pool of blood on the floor, right?”

Silence, followed by a click. I slid into the tight stall and gasped. He’d been shot in the thigh. Said bullet had punctured the femoral artery, along with a few other, smaller arteries. He had his hand clasped tightly over the entry wound, blood seeping out between he’s fingers.

“You should be dead right now!” I whispered, pulling my phone out of my pocket.

“Who are you calling?” He snapped.

“My classic lit teacher. Who the fuck do you think? 911? Hi, I need an ambulance to Lucilly Hall. The bathroom on the 2nd floor men’s washroom. My friend has been shot in the thigh, his femoral artery. He’s got pressure on it. Have him lie down? Okay. 5 minutes? Okay. Yeah, he’s stable. Okay. Okay. Thanks.” I hung up the phone and pushed him to the floor. “Why the fuck didn’t you go to the hospital?!”

His face turned red with rage. “And you fucking would? I was high as a fucking satellite last night!” He went to lash out, but groaned in agony.

“Keep pressure on it. They should be here soon.” I opened the door and leaned out. The crowd was still there. “What are you still doing here? There’s an ambulance coming. Make sure they get here. We don’t need you all watching!”

Like chickens with their heads cut off, they bumped into each other, evacuating the room. I sighed; we are in university, and people still didn’t know how to react? Ridiculous.

The ambulance arrived soon after, three tall men pushing a stretcher. While the two more buff men lifted him onto the stretcher, the third talked to me. “Do you know what happened?”

“All I know is he was high as a kite last night. At some point he must have gotten shot. I didn’t notice until someone screamed bloody murder.”

He nodded, writing that down. “Any idea who shot him?” I shook my head. “Okay. Do you want to come with? We’ll need someone at the hospital to do paperwork.”

“Yeah, anything.” I nodded and turned.

Axel was struggling with the EMTs, his pants and shirt covered in blood. “You’re not fucking taking me anywhere!” He screamed.

One of the EMTs pulled out a needle and, after much struggle, managed to inject it into one of his intact veins. He immediately calmed down and they strapped him to the stretcher. They started wheeling him away, cutting his clothes off.

And I’ll be damned if I still thought he was hot.


	3. Stranger

The ride to the hospital was interesting, to say the least. A few times he came out of the sedative, forcing the paramedics to give him stronger and stronger doses. They managed to control the bleeding, and found he also had a cracked rib.

He may have been a complete stranger to me, but I stuck by him. I held his hand, rubbing it gently, reinforcing that I was there, that I still cared. We’d gotten in our fair few fights, but I definitely still cared for him, even if he didn’t share those feelings.

Nothing like this has ever happened before. He’d broken bones, OD’d on drugs, injured himself. Never been shot, not even stabbed. What was he doing last night that provoked this? Who had done it? Is he entirely to blame? These questions raced through my mind the whole ride there. All I could do was stare into his dazed eyes, wondering where it all went wrong.

“Rox…”

I snapped out of my daze. “I’m right here, Axel. I’m right here.”

His chest heaved heavily. “Stop.”

“What?”

“Stop protecting me…” He drifted into unconsciousness and the paramedics rushed into action, hooking him up to several machines, opening the doors for him to be lowered down and taken directly into surgery. I stepped out of the ambulance, shocked. Why would he…? It makes no sense. Not to me at least.

The next hours were a blur: nurses telling me how he was doing, filling out paperwork, being examined myself, drinking coffee, phone calls from friends. None of it made sense; it was all disjointed. I was disjointed. I felt out of body, like I was looking down on myself in despair. _Why do you keep doing this to yourself? How about you just leave him already? Will you ever forgive him?_

The answers are always the same: I don’t know.

I was sleeping in the chair beside his bed when he woke up from surgery.

“Roxas.”

My eyes shot open. “Axel. How do you feel?”

“Like I shit rainbows and puke butterflies.”He said, anger very clear in his tone. “How the fuck do you think I feel?”

I dropped my head. “I’m sorry.”

He huffed. “You better fucking be sorry.”

My head swam with things to say. Do I go for hurt? For emotions? For personal gain? “I don’t know who you are, Axel.” I whispered.

“What?”

“Who are you?” I asked, raising my head. “You’re a complete stranger to me, and I’m not putting up with it.” I stood and left before he had the chance to say anything.


	4. Painstaking

In the following days, I barely talked to anyone, aside from when absolutely necessary. I went about my classes, drifting between them. I fielded calls from Axel’s lawyer, wondering when he would be fit to stand trial. I took sympathy calls and gifts from his friends, well wishes abound. By the time I made it back to my dorm every night, every ounce of energy was completely wiped from me. There was barely enough energy to call the hospital every night, just to see how he was.

“Is he okay?” I would always ask.

“He’s fine. He keeps asking for you. I think he wants to see you.”

“Tell him I’m sorry, I’ve got too much homework. I’ll call again tomorrow. Night.”

“Good night, Roxas.”

…

“Hi, I’m calling about Axel Leavitt?” I sat in my desk, head in my hand, staring at my blank computer screen.

“Is this Roxas?” A female nurse asked, hesitation in her voice.

“Yes. He’s okay?”

“He…” She hesitated, pausing for a few seconds. “He wants to talk to you. He’s right here.”

I froze. He wanted to talk to me? Why? If he was just going to yell at me again… “O-okay. Yeah. May I talk to him?” She agreed and I could hear the sounds involved with the phone changing hands.

“Rox?” Axel’s tinny voice, more monotone than usual. I assumed due to the steady regiment of medication they had him on.

“Hey, Ax. How are you feeling?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.

I could almost hear him shrug. “I’ve been better.” There was silence between the two of us. “Look, I’m sorry I was an asshole to you.”

“It’s okay.” I rushed, holding my breath.

“No, it’s not. You didn’t deserve it. You’ve worked so hard to make sure I haven’t died that you didn’t deserve to be yelled at like that. Look, can you come see me? I want to see you, so we can talk about this better, in person.”

I glanced at the clock, balancing my time. “I’m out of class early tomorrow. I’ll come see you around 2. Is that okay?”

In the background, I heard him ask the nurse, then something that sounded a lot like arguing. “I’ll see you at 2. I… I love you Roxas.”

“I… Love you too, Axel. See you tomorrow.” It had been a long time since either of us had said we loved each other out loud, let alone to each other. I turned the light off and crawled into bed, staring at the blacked out ceiling. What he said was true, entirely true. After his first fight with drugs, I switched to a painstaking work ethic to ensure he wouldn’t kill himself, either intentionally or unintentionally. I put everything on the line for him, ignoring everything outside of him.

I’d talk to him, sure. But it was time I thought about myself over him.


End file.
